Prince Charming
by VivianKai
Summary: Her prince did not come wearing a shining armor, nor does her prince rode a horse to rescue her. Instead, her prince came in dirt and blood.


PRINCE CHARMING  
By: **VivianKai**

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Twelve years old Irina Jelavic managed to crack her eyes open after what seemed like the longest sleep she had in her life. She could feel her body aching all over, and when she tried to sit up, she collapsed back to the hard surface. She let out a whine of pain before she turned her attention towards her left.

There was the body of a man lying motionless on the ground, unmoving. Irina only needed to take a glance at the face to recognize the man as the murderer of her parents, and she remembered being the one who seeks the revenge for her parents on her own.

The young blonde turned her head to the right, and her eyes widened in fear at the horrible sight before her.

Her parents' bodies laid at the corner of the living room, facing away from her.

 _'... mama... papa...'_

Using the last bits of strength left in her body, the child started to crawl her way towards the bodies of her parents. She tried her best to sit up as she flipped her mother over to look at her face for the last time. Tears started to form in Irina's eyes as she gazed down at the bloody wounds covering her mother's chest.

Hot tears were soaking her cheeks as she dropped her head on her mother's chest. There were no heartbeats, the warmth of the body was gone, and the scent of blood struck her sense of smell in an instant.

However, despite her urge to throw up at the gory scene which reminded her of her murder, she was too tired to lift her head. She had mustered all of her strength to crawl towards her parents, and she was happy just by the fact that she could die in peace in her parents' cold embrace.

There were loud screamings, ear piercing gunshots, and heavy footsteps approaching. However, Irina didn't feel the urge to hide. She had lost all of her hopes in life, and she couldn't imagine herself living in a world without her parents.

The door was slammed open. Despite Irina's welcoming embrace towards death, she flinched upon hearing the heavy footsteps approaching her. In a brief moment, her body was lifted up from her parents, and the traumatized child couldn't hold back her screams as she struggled to set free.

"Don't worry. We're here to rescue you."

Her closed eyes slowly opened. A young man drenched in blood and dirt stood before her sight. Without a second word, the man held her in his arms as he walked out of the house.

She could feel his chest rising as he shouted in a language she did not understand.

Her body shivered upon hearing the exclamation. Upon noticing her discomfort, the mystery savior of hers held her closer towards his chest.

"You're safe."

He spoke in a strongly accented English. However, she could understand what he was trying to tell her, and his words managed to calm her down as she weakly nodded her head at his attempted comfort.

He reeked of blood and sweat, but his beating heartbeats relaxed her mind. At the moment, she had forgotten the agony she had gone through as she nuzzled her cheek against the man's broad chest.

Even though it could only be a few minutes of warmth, even though she might never know who is the mystery soldier who pulled her away from the death door - Irina felt safe and sound in the arms of her savior.

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Twenty years old Karasuma Tadaomi sat in the most uncomfortable chair in the coldest room he had ever been. However, comfort was the last priority in his mind right now.

The ache brought by the hard surface of the chair and the shivering chill of the icy hospital room was in a sea of worries.

All around him, the young soldier could see the survivors of the horrible Yugoslav war. A young woman was sitting on the chair sobbing hard, and an elder held her in his comforting arms as he whispered gentle words to the traumatized youngster once in awhile. There were injured men pacing back and forth, raging and blaming themselves for not being capable enough to protect their families. And then, there were also children who sobbed as they prayed for the safety of their families.

Karasuma sat slouched. His hands held together, elbows on the knees, his mouth resting against the folded fingers as he hunched over.

He was an atheist. He did not believe in God. However, he still prayed along with the survivors in hope for peace for their country.

One of the rooms' door opened, and a female doctor stepped out. Whispers were ceased out as pairs of worried eyes filled with hope looked at the white-coated figure.

"Karasuma Tadaomi."

The doctor called, and he stood up from his seat.

"The child you rescued, she is all fine." She reported to the soldier, an assuring smile curved on the corner of her lips. "Aside from a few scratches and bruises, she is doing well. And she requested to see you in person."

He raised a confused brow at the last sentence, but he entered the medical room anyway. The girl he rescued sat on the bed. Bandages covered her head and knees. The moment she noticed his presence, her eyes lit up.

" _Hvala ti_! (Thank you!)" The child exclaimed once he was close enough. She held his hand in a tight grip as she shook it. Tears were brimming her blue eyes as she repeatedly chanted on the similar words towards him.

"... I… don't understand what you are trying to tell me." Karasuma sought to explain as he nodded his head at the foreign language he did not recognize.

"She is saying her thank you." The doctor explained to him as she approached them. "Seemed like she took a favor of you and is grateful for your rescue."

"... is that so…?" He squatted down to her level. His arm extended out to tousle her hair as the corner of his lips quirked up to a small smile. "I doubt you could understand what I tried to tell you. However, I hope you knew that despite everything seemed like it was a mess right now, don't give up."

Despite the language gap between them, the young blonde stared in awe as he spoke. A tint of blush formed on her cheeks when she noticed the smile spreading on his charming face.

A mixed feeling of disappointment and frustration rushed over Irina since she couldn't understand the words he tried to tell her, but those emotions were soon replaced by a peculiar calmness when she saw the smile.

In the fairy tale, a prince charming was supposed to wear a shining armor and rode a horse when he arrived to save his princess. However, even if the man before her was covered in dirt and blood, spoke in a heavily accented English which is confusing to understand - twelve years old Irina Jelavic had considered him as her prince charming.

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 _ **Fin.**_

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 **Author's Note:** To show your supports to the author, please review!


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